


Justice

by Flyontheceiling



Category: Mitch grassi - Fandom, Pentatonix, Scott Hoying - Fandom, Superfruit
Genre: Blood and Injury, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29698401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyontheceiling/pseuds/Flyontheceiling
Summary: A normal working day turns into a nightmare for Mitch and Scott.
Relationships: Scott Hoying& Mitch Grassi
Kudos: 4





	Justice

**Author's Note:**

> So...now there’s this. I tried to portray this as honestly and sympathetically as possible, but please be aware that it contains descriptions of rape and violence towards main characters. (Just in case you didn’t read the tags). Obviously this is fiction, and there’s no way I’d want any of this to happen to these sweet people.

‘OMG, look at them!’ Scott leaned forward to get a closer look at the police up ahead. They had formed a line in front of the protestors up ahead who were attempting to reach the tv studio off to their left. They were close enough for Scott to make out their banners and placards- all bearing homophobic slurs and misquoted political statements.

Homophobia had been a fact of Scott’s life, and although he didn’t understand it, indeed, he despised it, he knew it would always be around.

‘Maybe we should have cancelled the session?’ Matt reflected, ‘we’re going to be late anyway.’ He couldn’t help but be embarrassed for his friend and bandmate. Matt respected the people’s right to protest too- but over something like this? 

They had both known there were going to be protestors. A new reality tv show was scheduled to begin filming in an unknown location this spring. Similar to other reality tv shows, this one would feature all gay, trans and queer contestants living together and the whole objective of the show would be to see who paired up with who and which couple would be the viewer’s favourite at the end. It was controversial and very much in the news, so it was no surprise that, knowing some of the producers were going to be interviewed on a local talk show, the protestors had quickly descended.

Scott swore under his breath as the police began diverting the few cars in front of them and themselves away from the area they needed to be...the recording studio close to the building the protestors were intent on reaching. 

As the car crawled closer, a few stragglers from the main body of the crowd passed in front of the car, deliberately attempting to obstruct them, their mostly homemade placards of various sizes held high above their heads, faces contorted in anger and hate.

Scott held his breath as a bearded male with blonde hair tied back into a red, spotted tie looked straight into his eyes as he passed the front of the car. He nudged his companion and they both turned to glare at him, pausing with their hands resting on the car. Scott was sure he’d been recognised. 

‘This is too close for comfort,’ Scott muttered, knowing that if any of them knew he wasn’t straight, they were near enough to cause a whole lot of bother. He tried to keep his eyes on the turn off they were being diverted to, rather than the protestors, but his knuckles on the steering wheel were white with tension. As he turned, he could see the two protestors who had peered into the car out of his rear view mirror. They were just standing and watching them. Scott shuddered.

‘I can’t believe they let them get so close,’ Matt whispered, as the stragglers finally grouped together and moved off to join the main body, and Scott turned the car onto the road that would take them around the back of the recording studio.

‘I don’t think they were expecting it to be so big,’ Scott replied, finally able to speed up a little. ‘That was scary. I hope they’ve got plenty of security at the tv studio.’ He wouldn’t like to have been in those poor producer’s shoes at the minute.

They were almost an hour late for their afternoon session by the time Scott drew the car to a standstill in the parking lot of the recording studio. Matt had kept Ben, their music arranger, informed by text, and was relieved to find that everyone else had made it there without problems.

‘Well? Ready to go make music?’ Scott grinned, his attention finally focused on the reason they were here.

Matt clapped him on the back. ‘Better late than never!’

*****************

The recording session had not gone so well. For some reason they just couldn’t get it together and take after take ended up consigned to oblivion. Tempers were running close to the surface, and even Kevin, normally so laid back, had found himself raising his voice more than once. It wasn’t any single person’s fault, they had all messed up at least once. 

The lack of breaks due to the time constraints hadn’t helped and now they were running into extra time as darkness fell. It seemed as though everything was conspiring against them today.

Ben eventually called them together. ‘ We’re gonna have to wind this up guys. We all have other things we should be doing tonight. I suggest we try again tomorrow after a good night’s sleep.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Let’s say nine tomorrow?’ He looked around at the disheartened band, who stood, shuffling uneasily. This had never happened to them before. They prided themselves on being ‘one-take’ specialists. ‘Don’t worry,’ he smiled, trying to lift the mood a little, ‘we’ve managed to get nearly half of what we wanted. Go home and have a good night, relax a little. It’s been a hard day.’

‘Well, I’m all for that,’ Kirstie sighed in relief. ‘I’m so tired!’

‘I’m just hungry! Coffee before we split?’ Scott asked, his mood lifting immediately, knowing now that they didn’t have to keep plodding on when it was obvious it just wasn’t working today. There were murmurs of assent. It was always nice to chill for a while and discuss the day’s work, and they had worked through without complaint. There was a Starbucks just across the road they had frequented before.

‘I’m gonna take off,’ Mitch replied. ‘I need to meet Austin later, we have some stuff to sort out.’

‘You sure?’ Scott looked at him, eyebrows raised. ‘I never seem to get to hang with you anymore.’

‘I’m gonna see you tomorrow,’ Mitch reminded him. ‘Maybe we can catch up after that?’ He pulled on his jacket and gave Scott a hug. ‘See you then, babe- enjoy your coffee.’

Scott watched him leave sadly. One of the reasons he had suggested they had coffee together was so he could spend a few minutes with his old best friend, talking about something other than work. He sighed, before turning back to where the others were engaged in conversation.

Mitch made his way across the parking lot slowly, busily composing a text to Austin, and was almost to his car when he became aware of two dark figures standing in front of the car next to his own, passing a joint between them. 

‘Hey,’ he murmured, abandoning the text to fish for his car key. He felt nothing untoward, both men were involved in conversation, interspersed with the occasional laugh and Mitch couldn’t condemn their smoking out here when he had been out here earlier doing exactly the same thing. 

‘Took you long enough, pretty boy!’ one of them called over, and Mitch’s head immediately snapped up, instantly aware. He made no reply, but dammit, where the hell was his key?

He went through his jacket pockets a little more quickly as both of them started to move towards him, feeling suddenly vulnerable in the dimly lit lot.

‘Are you sure he’s one of them?’ The man who had spoken earlier asked his companion, and Mitch knew now they talking about him. He paused, already feeling the threat, but unsure what to do.

‘Oh he’s one of them alright,’ the other replied, with a scornful chuckle. ‘Look at him!’ They both laughed now, their eyes looking Mitch up and down with amusement. 

Mitch was confused. He was always careful to dress down on work days. He was wearing no make-up, minimal, everyday jewellery, and was dressed in plain black jeans, white t shirt and black bomber style jacket. Nothing that could have drawn attention to him; but if he’d wanted to do that, then he damned well would have.

He had finally gave up looking for his key, his senses now on full alert. He should head back to the studio rather than stay here, he decided, and was starting to walk quickly back towards the building, seeking the safety of the warm, yellow lights and his friends inside, when he was suddenly grabbed by the hair from behind.

He let out a strangled yell as his head was yanked backwards which was cut off abruptly by his legs being kicked out from beneath him.

Mitch twisted his body as he felt himself go down to protect his head from the concrete. He landed face down, winded with the speed of the attack, and he was given no time to recover his breath before he was being dragged by the legs back towards his car.

He tried to twist onto his back, to confront his attackers, to look them in the eye as he informed them he was no threat to them, but it was impossible. One of them grabbed at his hair again and slammed his face sideways down onto the ground. Mitch saw an instant of blackness, before flashes of light began dancing across his vision. He yelled instinctively, only to have the same thing happen again. This time he tasted blood.

‘Shut your fucking face- before I shut it for you permanently!’ The voice was low and would have been menacing by itself let alone the words it had spoken. Mitch felt an oily rag being forced into his mouth, and panicked at how much was being shoved in there, entirely filling his mouth and pushing at the back of his throat.

There was low laughter as his jacket was pulled from his shoulders and doubled down to pin his arms as effectively as a straight-jacket . A kick landed on his side, grazing a rib, then one came in from the other side, presumably from the other man, and after that, Mitch started to lose count. He could still hear their muffled chuckles from above as he struggled to breathe. There would be a pause, then another sudden pain. 

What had he done? The thoughts raced through his brain as he tried to process what was happening. Did he know these people?

Tears mingled with his own blood, as the attack seemed to go on and on, but it was when he felt his pants being pulled down that he felt the most overwhelming panic he had ever felt.

He started to kick violently, the one eye he could now see out of fixated on the darkness beneath his car. He made some attempt to squirm towards it- to some semblance of safety, but it was not to be. One of them had his legs pinned down while he felt the other’s weight settle on top if him. He tried desperately to scream through his gag knowing what was coming, but when he inhaled, the rag slid further down his throat, and he started to retch. 

He couldn’t allow himself to vomit, some part of Mitch’s brain was telling him, or he would choke, and he tried to use his tongue to work the rag away from his throat. It worked to some extent but his breathing was wrong and there wasn’t enough oxygen getting in through his nose. The more he struggled, the harder he needed to breath, but couldn’t.

He was totally immobilised now, helpless to retaliate or protest, panicking about his airway closing and waiting for the pain to start. The man on top of him seemed to be enjoying his terror, deliberately pausing to allow Mitch to take in his intent completely. Mitch could do nothing other than wait and wish for it all to be over.

Then suddenly a calloused hand ripped his t shirt from his neck, friction burning his skin, and bit into his shoulder hard, Mitch felt the skin break beneath his teeth, and at the exact same time further pain arrived as his attacker forced himself into his body. Mitch’s imprisoned hands clutched at the only thing they could- the fabric of his own jacket, and he held on to the only lifeline he could.

He heard his rapist murmuring into his ear as if this was all perfectly normal. They were words of hate and disgust, disguised in the tone of a lover.

‘You like that, don’t you, pretty boy? Don’t you worry, we’re both going to take good care of you.’

There was a low rumble of laughter from his companion. ‘Wish the blonde one was here too, he would have put up a good fight!’

Mitch could do nothing but scream in his head, yearning for unconsciousness which cruelly stayed just out of his reach as the pain continued. 

The animalistic grunting in his ear finally stopped with another bite to his neck that Mitch barely felt anymore. He could feel numbness spreading throughout his body now- the yearned for oblivion just out of his reach, then he felt the weight lifting from him, but he knew there was more to come. 

He tried to turn his head to look into the face of the person who had hurt him so badly, but he could only see his feet- black sneakers and white socks. No taste then, he thought dimly.

He obviously was not in the right position for the next round, and found himself harshly turned onto his back, his bare skin scraping on the ground.

‘I want to see that pretty face as we have fun!’ The second assailant grunted, as his companion forced Mitch’s legs to the concrete. He tried to kick, to get the vice- like hold off his legs, but to no avail. He was hobbled by his own clothing and his muscles no longer seemed to work anymore anyway. A further moment of panic hit him as he struggled once again to stop the gag blocking his airway.

‘You mean- it used to be pretty!’ Number One guffawed, obviously pleased with his handiwork. Mitch still couldn’t see him as Number Two was blocking his view, but there was something...

Mitch was now able to look into his potential rapist’s face. He recalled a blonde moustache with dirty blonde long hair and beard. His eyes were grey, hard and filled with anger.

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to concentrate on just breathing and distancing himself from the scene as he loomed over him, but first, the beatings began again. There were punches to his stomach and face, kicks to his limbs and head, until Mitch felt the enveloping, promised darkness suck him in. He felt nothing anymore as the next weight settled on top of him but gratitude.

************

‘Isn’t that Mitch’s car?’ Matt asked as they gathered outside the studio to make their way to Starbucks only minutes later. ‘I thought he left earlier.’ 

‘He definitely did,’ Kirstie agreed, ‘I saw him go out the door.’

Scott pushed through them to peer across the lot. ‘That’s his car alright.’ He stood, puzzled. Mitch had been in such a hurry to get away. Why would his car still be here?

‘Maybe he had some engine trouble and caught an Uber?’ Kevin suggested. 

‘Is that a bag beside it?’ Kirstie narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the indistinct shape on the ground.

Suddenly, Scott was running, and they knew there was something wrong. ‘Mitch! Mitch!’ Scott was calling, then he literally slid to a stop. They could see him standing there, bent double, both hands to his face. ‘Get an ambulance!’ He turned to scream at them, and they all started to run. 

As they neared, they could see that the ‘bag’ on the ground was actually Mitch, or what looked like Mitch. He was laying partly on his side, his upper body tied in his own jacket and his pants askew and far too low. There seemed to be blood everywhere.

‘Keep Kirstie back Matt!’ Scott shouted, pulling his jacket off to cover his friend. He knelt at Mitch’s side, touching his bruised, bloody face gently. ‘Mitch, can you hear me, babe? Mitch! Mitch!’ He started shaking Mitch roughly, pulling the rag from his mouth. His eyes wild with fear.

Kirstie had already seen. She started retching in Matt’s grip, and pulled away to vomit on the grass verge.

‘Is he dead?’ She demanded, unable to see for tears.

Kevin finished speaking on his phone to the ambulance, and knelt beside Scott. He pulled Mitch’s swollen eyelid back with one hand and felt for the pulse on his throat. 

‘Kevin?’ Scott insisted , his face grey. 

Kevin nodded. ‘Ambulance is coming.’ He turned to Kirstie. ‘He’s alive.’ His laid a hand to rest on Scott’s jacket. ‘Scott,’ he breathed, ‘Was he...you know...’ he couldn’t finish, unable to voice the words. 

Scott turned a tear streaked face to him, and couldn’t say anything. He nodded, anger beginning to show through now. Kevin grabbed him tightly, holding on as Scott poured his heart out. Then at their side, Mitch started to stir.

Scott quickly let go of his death grip on Kevin, and scooped Mitch into his arms, uncaring that Kevin had put out a restraining arm to try and stop him moving him. ‘Mitch,’ he whispered, ‘Mitchy, babe, I’m here, I’m here.’ 

Mitch opened one eye to look up at Scott. ‘Cold,’ he gasped, his whole body starting to shake. Scott pulled him closer, willing his body heat into his friend. ‘It’s okay, Mitch, it’s okay. We’ll get you warm.’

‘I’ll find some blankets!’ Matt declared, and sprinted back to the studio. Both Kevin and Kirstie removed their jackets and Scott pulled one around Mitch’s shoulders where there was blood pooling from a wound on his shoulder.

‘He’s in shock,’ Kevin said, frantically looking around. ‘Where’s that ambulance?’ 

‘It’s only been a couple of minutes,’ Kirstie replied, propping herself against Mitch’s car to prevent her knees giving way. ‘I’m sure they’re coming as fast as they can.’ She couldn’t seem to get her head around this. It had to be a nightmare, hadn’t it? She was sure she would wake up soon, because there was no way this could possibly be happening in real life. 

Mitch began to cry, weak whimpers of pain, and Scott was beside himself. He held him closer and stroked his blood matted hair. ‘Try and keep still honey. I’ve got you.’ He rocked him like a baby, burying his face in his jacket. Wanting to do something positive, he tried to release Mitch’s arms, but the movement obviously caused him pain. ‘I’m sorry ,’ he whispered, stopping immediately.

Just then, Matt emerged from the studio with a pile of blankets, an entourage of bodies following him. 

‘No, no, no!’ Kevin hissed, jumping to his feet. He let Matt through to start arranging blankets over Mitch, but put up a hand to stop the small crowd following him. 

‘Everything’s being taken care of, people. An ambulance is on it’s way, and I don’t think Mitch needs a crowd around him.’ He couldn’t believe some were actually taking photographs. ‘What the hell, people! ‘ he yelled when he realized, ‘Have a bit of compassion!’

‘Sorry’ Matt grimaced. ‘They just all followed me like I was the damned pied-piper or something!’ They moved themselves around Mitch to make it more difficult for the onlookers to get a decent shot. 

Scott covered Mitch’s face with a blanket, scowling at the crowd who had moved back a little, hearing at the same time the ambulance on the main road. ‘Thank God,’ he sighed. ‘The ambulance is here, Mitch. They’re gonna take care of you.’ He eased just enough of the blanket back to see Mitch’s face. His breath was coming in short gasps, his face a picture of pain.

‘They’re gonna look after you, you’re safe now. Safe now,’ Scott found himself babbling, watching the paramedics unloading their equipment out of the corner of his eye; the lot suddenly bright with red and blue light.

Mitch made an attempt to shake his head, his hand appeared from beneath the jacket where Scott must have loosened it, and wrapped his fingers in Scott’s shirt. ‘Scott?’

Scott murmured back. ‘It’s me, babe, I’m here.’

‘They...they...’

‘They?’ Scott’s face screwed up in disbelief. ‘How many were there?’

‘Two. Scott...’ 

Scott was being spoken to, he realized. ‘Sir, please? We need to see the patient?’ Scott looked back down, seeing only desperation in Mitch’s face.

Mitch wanted to tell him. Wanted to tell Scott that they had talked about him too- to be careful, but Scott’s attention was distracted, and he couldn’t talk loudly enough to draw it back.

Scott tried to let go of Mitch, to surrender him to the people who were going to help him, but Mitch wouldn’t be let go, and let out a panicked scream. ‘Scott...no! Stay!’ The paramedic was obviously experienced, old enough to have kids Mitch’s age, and understood that trying to tear Scott from Mitch at the minute would be further damaging.

‘Okay, you can stay for now.’ He said, offering Scott a small smile, and Scott felt Mitch relax a little. An oxygen mask was strapped to his face, and questions were asked. Scott answered them like a robot, all his concentration on Mitch. 

‘I’ve notified his parents,’ Kirstie whispered to Scott as they began to cut Mitch out of his jacket and t shirt in order to get to his chest. The older paramedic was explaining to Mitch that they were about to put ECG leads on his chest to check his heart, and Mitch seemed to understand.

‘You took a lot of punches and kicks, Mitchell is it?’ Scott glared at him, he’d already told him he preferred Mitch. ‘Anything else you want to tell us about?’ Mitch’s lips moved, blood at the corner of his mouth partially glueing them together. His tongue tried to moisten them in vain, and he tried again. ‘What’s that?’ The medic leaned in closer, listening.

Scott saw Mitch desperately trying to tell him, and his frustration built as he watched him struggle. ‘He’s trying to tell you he was raped!’ He shouted. There was a sharp intake of breath from the assembled on-lookers, and Scott was instantly contrite. More so when Mitch sobbed and tightened his grip on his hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly, ‘I’m sorry Mitch.’ Mitch’s only open eye flickered to the people behind Scott for the first time, and there was major panic there. He had realized he was on display, damaged and vulnerable. The ECG trace began to go crazy, and the paramedics looked concerned.

‘Let’s get him inside,’ the younger one said. 

A few minutes later Mitch was loaded into the ambulance. They’d given him Morphine for the pain first, and Mitch had relaxed into a deep sleep, eventually letting go of Scott.  
He stood and watched as the ambulance pulled out of the lot, putting a hand to his chest where he could still feel Mitch’s cold fingers wrapped in the fabric.

His eyes drifted down to the blood on the ground. Mitch’s blood. It was even spattered up the door of his car. A wave of nausea began in the pit of Scott’s stomach, and he followed Kirstie’s example to vomit on the grass verge.

‘We’ll take my car,’ Matt said. ‘You’re definitely not up to driving.’ He laid a reassuring hand on Scott’s shoulder and gently steered him across the lot.

***********************

They were allowed to see Mitch briefly in twos at the hospital, once he had been seen, tended to and settled.

Kirstie literally clung to Scott as they went in in. He put a comforting arm around her, both of them needing the contact.

Mitch had been sedated, the nurse told them, and gently explained the list of damage done, and what they expected to happen now. Scott forced himself to look as though he was listening when all he wanted was to rush over to the bed. 

She started with the minor injuries; bruising, lacerations to his neck and shoulder where he had been bitten, and various scrapes and smaller cuts. Then, the more serious stuff; a hairline fracture to his skull, two fractured ribs, a more serious fracture to his cheek that would require surgery when he was more stable, then there was some internal damage they were worried about; damage to his spleen and liver that might need surgery too at some point.

Kirstie listened with her fist in her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks, and Scott barely listened at all, his entire concentration centred on the still figure in the bed, surrounded by machines beeping and bipping.

‘Just to make you aware,’ she finished. ‘The police will be here shortly. She made to leave, but her words had grabbed Scott’s attention.

‘Wait- what?’

‘They’ll probably need statements from you all. They’ll do a rape kit, and probably take molds from the bites on your friend. When he’s stronger, a statement will be taken from him too.’

Kirstie gave an audible sob and the nurse laid a gentle hand on her arm. ‘I’m sorry.’

Scott waited until the door closed behind her before slowly approaching the bed, holding Kirstie tightly to his side.

The left side of Mitch’s face was more swollen than he remembered, black and blue, shiny and covered in scrapes. An oxygen tube ran up his nose and blood was being dripped into his arm. The bites Scott recalled seeing with shock, were covered lightly with dressings, awaiting the police.

Scott put out a tentative hand to touch the less badly damaged side of his face. His skin felt warm now, rather than the cold clamminess from earlier, and he looked peaceful.

‘He’s going to be furious when he wakes up and sees his face, you know?’ He told Kirstie, a small grin tugging at his mouth in an attempt to comfort her. The nurse had made some attempt to comb Mitch’s hair back and he pulled Mitch’s bangs back down onto his forehead where he liked them. ‘There, that’s better.’ 

Kirstie leaned over and kissed his temple. ‘You’re still beautiful, Mitch,’ she whispered. Then to Scott, ‘Come on babe, I’ve seen enough.’ She wiped the back of her hand over her make-up smeared face, feeling some relief after seeing he was sleeping now, the pain smoothed from his face.

Scott reached for Mitch’s hand, and gave his fingers a soft squeeze. ‘We’ll see you later, queen. Be strong.’

Kirstie smiled. ‘He wouldn’t know how to be anything else.’

**********************  
  
The following day, Mitch had surgery to fix his broken cheekbone. His parents had arrived from Texas, and were understandably distraught, constantly on the phone to update Scott who in turn kept the others updated. The doctors had decided that the damage to Mitch’s liver and spleen would resolve itself with time, and didn’t require surgery. 

The police had taken statements from them all, and had pieced together their information with Mitch’s. They were seemingly very interested in Scott and Matt’s description of the protestors who had watched them head for the recording studio, and Scott wondered if Mitch’s attackers had been part of the march.

Scott got to see Mitch again three days after the attack. 

He stood outside Mitch’s room nervously, waiting for the nurses to finish whatever they were doing. He had stood back to allow Mitch’s family to be with him as often as they wanted, but now they were taking longer breaks and catching up on other demands, It was his turn.

His head snapped up from his phone as the door opened. The two nurses smiled at him. The smiles weren’t the sympathetic, gentle ones he recalled from the last time he was in that very spot, but cheerful and open, which he took for a good sign. ‘You can go in now,’ one of them said, and Scott caught the door as it closed behind them.

Mitch was awake, and a hand lifted in greeting as he approached the bed. ‘Hey you.’ It wasn’t exuberant, it wasn’t bright and breezy, but it was a start. Scott grabbed at the hand that was now stretched towards him, lifting it to his lips for a very heartfelt kiss.

‘Hey, queen.’ He dragged a chair closer to the bed, and two eyes- yes two, watched him closely. Finally settled, Scott allowed himself to breathe. The eye that had been shut tight three days ago was open now, but bloodshot. The swelling to the side of his face was slightly less, his hair shaved close to his temple where a small dressing presumably covered the incision that had been made for his surgery. Other than the bruising, his coloring was normal, and his eyes sparkled with a faint hint of amusement as he assessed the damage. Scott felt an enormous relief.

‘See what I look like when I don’t keep up the beauty regime?’ He grinned, and Scott tutted.

‘You’re so dammed vain, Grassi,’ he murmured. Mitch’s obsession with how he looked had always amused him. Scott couldn’t see how perfection could be improved on.

Mitch grinned back. ‘So,’ Scott began firmly. ‘How are you really feeling?’ 

‘Like shit,’ Mitch sighed, confirming Scott’s fears. He knew he would have been forcing smiles and bravado for his family. ‘Everything fucking hurts, and I’ve had a blinding headache since it happened, but there’s a really gorgeous nurse brings me some fantastic painkillers at night. He’s got the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen.’ He smirked, and Scott rolled his eyes.

‘I really don’t think you’re quite up to that yet! Any idea how long you’re gonna be in here?’

Mitch looked indignant. ‘Whoa- hold your horses there. I haven’t got his phone number yet!’ He started to laugh, but it obviously caused him pain, and he clutched at his ribs. ‘Dammit!’

Scott sucked in his breath in sympathy. ‘Ouch. No more jokes then. Okay?’ Mitch glared at him as if he was the one who started it. ‘Anyway- how are Mike and Nel?’ He changed the subject quickly.

‘Bad actors,’ Mitch answered. ‘They’re all “Hey, everything’s fine. You’ll be out of here soon and we’ll be able to look after you!” Then I see them outside talking to the doctor and Nel’s crying and Mike’s nodding all serious faced. They now seem to think I’m now unable to take care of myself.’ He snorted in derision. ‘They want me to go back to Texas with them.’ He looked at Scott hard. ‘I don’t want to go back to Texas, Scott!’

Scott didn’t want him to go back to Texas either. ‘They’re your parents, babe- that’s their job,’ he soothed, recognising the agitation in Mitch’s voice. ‘And you can’t take care of yourself.’ He quickly added, ‘for a little while anyway.’ 

Mitch shuffled around the bed a little. ‘Come on, Scott- you know what they’d be like- they’re my parents for God’s sake. I’m going to stay with Austin for a few days.’ 

Of course he was.

Scott nodded slowly. ‘Sure, that would work too. You take all the time out you need.’

Mitch’s expression changed. ‘Scott- they were after you too. I think they were really disappointed that you weren’t there. ‘ He hesitated. ‘They knew who we were. Please take care- especially around the studio.’ 

Scott’s brow furrowed. ‘What did they look like?’ He knew the police had thought there might be a connection, but wondered if hearing it from Mitch might make it a little clearer.

Mitch could never forget that face- it had haunted him day and night; looming over him in his dreams and startling him every time he saw a similar face pass outside his room. Each time it brought back the terror and pain. He found himself swallowing hard and frantically blinking back tears as he recalled once again, the face of his attacker. Scott stared in horror. What the hell was he thinking?

‘God-I’m so sorry Mitch- I-I never think before I open my mouth!’ He squeezed Mitch’s arm reassuringly, and he quickly covered Scott’s hand with his own.

‘S’okay. You need to know...’ Mitch went on to describe the one he could recall, and Scott stiffened, his heart leaden in his chest. ‘I think they definitely were the ones Matt and I nearly ran into on the way to the studio that day,’ he mused. ‘I had a feeling they were trouble.’ He shuddered as he recalled the look of recognition on the protestor’s faces. ‘But don’t worry-I’ll be careful.’

Mitch nodded, tiredness clouding his eyes. He was just relieved he’d warned Scott at last; he had tried so hard to get it out the night it happened. ‘ The police seem to have plenty of DNA. They took bite moulds too- so all they have to do is find them.’ He sighed. ‘Easier said than done, huh?’

Scott smiled gently. ‘They will find them, you know? It might not be today or tomorrow, but they will get them. You get some sleep now. Kirstie’s dying to see you tomorrow, so you need all your strength for that.’ Mitch huffed a little laugh. Kirstie could talk forever. As Scott rose to go, Mitch grabbed at his hand. 

‘I wish I’d just stayed to go for coffee with you all.’

Scott nodded sadly. ‘Me too, babe, me too.’ He leaned over and settled a kiss on Mitch’s forehead. ‘Goodnight Mitchy.’ 

**********************

When he reached his car, Scott took a few moments to digest Mitch’s words. 

He had assumed that Mitch had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had never even connected the two guys from the protest to what had happened. It was true that the police had been very interested in Scott and Matt’s stories, but he had thought they were just being thorough. Now he was certain he knew the reason for their interest.

He frowned as he recalled the scene as he’d peered through the car’s window, attempting to squeeze every detail from the memory. Try as he might, he could bring no details of the other protestor to mind.

He made a mental note to himself to get a dash-cam installed before calling Matt. He answered almost immediately, almost as though he’d been expecting his call.

‘Hey there.’

‘Hi Matt. Listen, I’ve just been to visit Mitch...’

‘Is he okay?’ Matt interrupted. 

‘Yeah- well, he’s healing. I know we’ve both given statements to the police, but it seems they didn’t just have a casual interest in those two protestors from the march. Mitch described the one I can remember, but I can’t think what the other looked like.’ He heard Matt take a sharp breath.

‘It was those two who did that?’ he asked, shock evident in his voice.

‘Apparently...they have DNA Mitch said, but he also told me that they did know who we were and that they had been waiting for me too.’ 

For a few seconds there was silence as Matt processed the information. ‘You know, Scott, I could swear I recognised the other one from somewhere, but I’ll be darned if I know where from. He was shorter and thicker set than the hairy one, and quite plain looking- short dark hair I think.’ Scott could almost hear Matt struggling to remember. ‘Yeah- I’m sure I’ve seen him somewhere before.’

‘Do the police know that?’

‘I think so. I’m sure I told them.’ Matt hesitated. ‘Scott- it’s still very early for them to come to any conclusions. Give them time to ensure they get the right people for this.’

Scott frowned. ‘Of course. No-one wants these people put away more than me.’

Matt chuckled wryly. ‘I think Mitch might disagree.’

‘Well- yeah...’ Scott agreed.

‘Ben wants us to go back in to finish some backing vocals tomorrow. Are you up for that? It’s just you, me and Kev. He wanted Kirstie too, but she’s going to see Mitch.’

Scott sighed. ‘I suppose so- life goes on.’

‘Well- take care then, and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Scott didn’t really feel like work, he felt his mind wasn’t on it at the moment, but then what else would he do? Sit at home and brood about something he could do absolutely nothing about? He’d much rather be with his friends.

******************

The following day found him sitting in his car in the same parking lot, only a few feet from where Mitch’s car had been parked that night; his parents had collected it the following day.

The place looked so different in the daytime than it had that night, lots more cars and people around of course, but Scott wondered if he would ever be able to come here without seeing Mitch, bruised and bloody, lying on the ground just over there. He was grateful his blood had been cleaned up, but his breath caught as he spotted a piece of police tape caught in the bushes, fluttering gently in the breeze.

Matt must have had some idea how he would react  
to being back there, because he’d been sitting in his own car waiting for him. Scott climbed out and raised a hand in greeting as he strode across the lot but without his customary swagger.  
They hugged and Matt slapped him on the back.

‘Weird being back here now, isn’t it?’ He sighed as they strolled slowly to the entrance.

‘I don’t ever want to be here after dark again,’ Scott agreed, and forced his mind back to the job in hand.

They were exchanging ideas for the session as they walked to their assigned studio, when two men emerged from a similar studio ahead of them, talking quietly, and turned down the corridor ahead of them. Matt suddenly stopped dead and grabbed Scott’s arm in a death grip. Without so much as a word, Scott felt himself being physically hauled into a bathroom off the corridor.

‘Matt! What..?’

‘That’s was them!’ Matt’s voice was whispered and urgent. ‘I swear- that was those two guys from the march!’

Scott frowned. He had seen their backs briefly, but Matt seemed adamant he had gotten a good look at them. ‘They were tidier-better dressed, but I know it was them Scott! That’s how the shorter one was so familiar- he works here!’

‘If you’re right, Matt, we need to contact the police..’

Matt nodded vigorously, and opened the door to peer cautiously up the corridor. ‘Come on- let’s get out of here.’

They quickly found their own studio, falling through the door together and locking it behind them. Kevin was already there, deep in conversation with one of the sound engineers. He did a double take as Scott and Matt breathlessly flattened themselves against the door. Scott immediately started dialling the number from a card given to him by the police.

‘Problem?’ Kevin asked. He’d had enough drama for one week. Matt left Scott to his call and quickly filled both Kevin and Ben in. 

It seemed to be a foregone conclusion that no work was getting done again as they discussed between them who the two men might be, but no-one else could place them.

Scott was particularly spooked by the thought that Mitch’s attackers were actually in the building. The two men that had seemed to have deliberately lain in wait with only one thought in their heads- to hurt and humiliate someone for simply being different from them. He felt nauseous at the thought-the whole structure felt contaminated.

The waiting for the police was interminable. None of them dared leave the room just in case they ran into them out in the corridor again; Scott and Matt in particular knew they’d be recognised and could possibly cause them to run before the police arrived, but everyone could see how frustrated Scott was becoming. He couldn’t sit still, his eyes darkening with annoyance, his hands constantly moving- running through his hair, checking his phone, biting his nails.

‘Any minute now,’ Kevin whispered to Ben.

The words weren’t out of his mouth for more than two seconds before Scott had unlocked and was out the door, calling over his shoulder, ‘lock it after me!’

‘Dammit!’ Ben yelled, jumping to his feet. 

‘I’ll go,’ Kevin interjected, and was out the door.

Matt and Ben simply looked at each other, Matt’s hands covering his mouth in shock. He looked at the door, then back at Ben, a question in his expression.

Ben threw up his hands in resignation. ‘Aw- what the hell!’

Scott hadn’t considered just how big the studio was. Apart from recording booths there were offices, meeting rooms, bathrooms, storage rooms; then, he rounded a corner to find himself in a cafe he hadn’t even known existed. Usually, they found their assigned room, did their thing, then were out of there.

There, sitting nursing coffees and laughing away to each other as if they had no care in the world, were the two protestors. 

Scott had hit the room at a jog, and they would have been blind not to see him, despite his panicked back-pedalling. Shit!’ He flattened himself against the wall outside the cafe, hoping against hope that he hadn’t been seen. Where the hell were the police? 

Scott’s heart was in his throat as he risked a peep around the corner- and immediately wished he hadn’t. They were right in front of him- just standing there with their hands in their pockets, and waiting. For the first time, he got a good look at the slightly shorter of the two. His hair, like Matt had described, was short and dark, curly at the sides. His eyes were a lighter blue than his own, he was swarthy and sturdy, but his teeth were jagged and rotten- the same teeth that had bitten into Mitch’s shoulder and neck. Scott froze. He really hadn’t thought this through at all.

The two exchanged knowing looks, but said nothing. Scott was reluctant to turn his back on them, but he had no choice. They had clearly recognised him, and despite being in a public place, Scott felt threatened- more so because he knew what they were capable of.

He turned and walked speedily back the way he had come. He couldn’t lead them back to their room, he knew, so turned the nearest corner. Once out of their sight, he started to jog, but a quick glance over his shoulder, showed him they hadn’t been fooled.

‘There he goes!’ he heard the hairy one shout, and it was like someone had strapped a rocket to his heels. He took off up the corridor and shot up a flight of stairs. Stairs? He didn’t realize the building had more than one floor. He reached the top, opened a door and knew he had made a big mistake.

Scott stood, his heart sinking as he looked around. He was in a huge attic space, full of boxes, instruments, sound equipment and other discarded or stored paraphernalia associated with a recording studio. The only light came from two small skylights set into the roof. The attic seemed to cover at least half the building, and Scott’s eyes could find no hiding place.

Behind him there was a rattle and the door handle moved. Scott held his breath, knowing the flimsy lock wouldn’t last long against those two. There was no way out, and Scott struggled not to panic. 

‘We’re coming in, darlin’!’ He heard one of them shout, ‘just give us a minute or two...’ The voice, laden with intention, was accompanied by loud thuds against the door, and Scott knew it probably wasn’t going to take that long. Visions of himself lying battered and bloody on the attic floor, suddenly re-charged him.

‘The police are on their way!’ he yelled, his eyes re-scanning the room.

There was a splitting of wood behind him, and Scott watched in horror as the thin door broke apart, and they were standing there, grinning. He backed into the room, looking for anything he could use as a weapon, but his time was up. 

He found himself skidding across the floor, breath knocked from his lungs as a flying rugby tackle took his legs out from under him. He scrambled to get to his feet, but as he struggled, something connected with his face, and Scott felt blood fly from his nose, as a spectrum of colors danced before his eyes. 

There was no way he was getting up anytime soon. Scott moaned as a wave of indescribable dizziness overwhelmed him as soon as he tried to move. Vomit rose to the back of his throat .

‘You people are disgusting!’ One of them shouted above him, and a booted foot connected with Scott’s hip. He managed to curl into a ball to try and protect himself, his hands covering his head. Then, suddenly, he was being dragged into a sitting position and the jagged teeth were just inches from his face. 

‘You seem to be insistent on having a taste of what your friend enjoyed!’ He laughed. ‘He put up a better fight though, isn’t that right, Will?’

His friend growled.‘ No fucking names, you idiot!’ He pushed his companion away, and Scott found himself laughing, a touch of hysteria overtaking him as Will crouched in front of him, his fingers yanking Scott’s head back by the hair. ‘Something funny?’ He shook Scott’s head like a dog shakes a rat, and Scott felt the dizziness return.

‘You two crack me up!’ he managed to gasp. ‘Not only do you beat and rape someone in the parking lot of where you work, but now you’re doing it in the building!’ Neither of you have a brain cell left alive!’ Scott closed his eyes as Will raised a fist in the air ready to smash it into his face.

He couldn’t understand whether the fist had hit him or he had simply passed out, but there was noise all around him when he next opened his eyes. 

He observed the scene through a veil of red. He could see Kevin, Matt and Ben in a scrum on the floor. How were they here? Scott was confused. He was recording some backing tracks today, wasn’t he? He was supposed to be at the studio. Why were his friends rolling around the floor yelling and screaming? He tried to remember, but just couldn’t think where he was, or why his face was hurting so much. He laid down, giving in to the pain and confusion. As he lost consciousness, he caught sight of the two little skylights...and remembered.

*******************

‘They’ve got them, Mitch!’ Scott announced the minute he entered his room. He had spent some time getting x- rayed and patched up, refusing to be admitted, and generally making enough of a nuisance of himself that the hospital were thankful to see the back of him.

Mitch’s mouth fell open, staring at Scott in disbelief. Scott’s face bore some resemblance to his own three days ago- bruised, swollen and cut. He waved his phone at Scott.

‘I know- the police called!’ He shook his head in horror. ‘I can’t believe you! Are you serious?’ Mitch had been fuming inwardly ever since he had received the call, which had included a good account of Scott’s idiotic heroics.

This wasn’t the reaction Scott was expecting. He put a tentative hand to his face. ‘Oh...yeah, that.’ 

Mitch snorted. ‘Yeah-that!’ He stabbed a finger in Scott’s direction. ‘You are a dick, Scott Hoying! I can’t believe you went after them like that! Putting yourself at risk of ...of...being...’

Mitch’s voice broke; the anger, pain, and frustration of the past three days, and now the worry about Scott and the relief his tormentors had been caught was too much, and he simply fell to pieces.

Alarmed, Scott strode across to the bed and pulled him into his arms. ‘Hey,’ he said softly, ‘I’m sorry. You’re right- I’m an idiot. I just didn’t think.’ He knew this was more than a reaction to his stupidity. The sobs were anguished and heart-wrenching and Scott felt powerless to do anything more than literally be a shoulder to cry on.

It seemed to go on forever. Scott reached across to the nightstand and grabbed a handful of tissues and shoved them into Mitch’s hand. Other than that practical gesture, he just waited, making soothing noises and trying his best not to join in. Behind him, a nurse opened the door and quickly closed it quietly again.

When Mitch finally pulled away, he wafted a hand in gratitude, still unable to speak coherently. Scott poured a glass of water and insisted he take it. For a few seconds Mitch held it to his bruised cheek, allowing the cold to ease the aching. Apparently his face wasn’t quite ready to be twisted into those positions yet.

‘Better?’ Scott asked eventually, and Mitch made a ‘so-so’ gesture with his hand.

‘You’re still- still an idiot,’ Mitch gasped as the sobs began to dissipate, but there was a wry smile on his face now. ‘God, that hurt!’ Not only was his face hurting, but his ribs too.

‘You need something?’ Scott asked, remembering the nurse who had peeked in. ‘I can go get them to get you some painkillers?’ But Mitch shook his head.

‘It will go in a minute,’ he said, ‘I don’t want to take too many of those things; they make me really fuzzy, you know?’ Scott nodded. ‘What about you? Does it hurt?’  
Scott had forgotten about his own injuries.

‘No- just numb at the minute.’

Mitch chuckled. ‘Well I hope you’ve picked something up because that will change!’ 

Scott knew he was right. ‘I’ll get something , don’t worry.’ He grinned. ‘Pretty dramatic week, huh?’

Mitch agreed. ‘Can you imagine going on stage or TV at the minute?’ He couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Everyone would think we’d beaten each other up!’ Scott shuddered. He could visualise it too well. 

‘Well that’s not going to happen. No-one is doing either of those things until we’re fit.’ He cocked his head. ‘Know when you’re getting out of this place yet?’

Mitch nodded, sipping his water. ‘Tomorrow morning. Austin’s picking me up. You will keep in touch, won’t you?’ He looked hard at Scott. Keeping in touch had not been a big thing between them lately. They were always too involved in their own separate lives these days.

Scott nodded. He knew what Mitch was referring to. ‘No excuses, Mitch. Neither of us are exactly going to be busy.’

Mitch sighed and leaned back against the pillows, and Scott knew it was time to go. ‘Let me know when you get out, won’t you? When you’re settled, I mean. And if you need anything-anything at all...’ 

Mitch put up a hand. ‘You need to rest too, don’t forget. But yes- I’ll give you blow by blow accounts of what’s going on.’ Scott nodded and stood to peck Mitch’s cheek.

‘See you do, babe. Get some rest.’ 

Outside the room, Scott hesitated. He felt an enormous relief that it was all over. Mitch was being discharged, his attackers were in prison, and they both had some time off work. But was it really all over? There would still be the trial, and he knew Mitch would be leaning heavily on his therapist for a while. Then there was all the media shit that was going on, as inevitably, the photos taken on that night were already out there. He knew himself, he would never forget the faces and voices of those two thugs, and there were always going to be homophobes around. Scott wasn’t sure, but one thing he did know was that he wouldn’t change his life for anything, despite the problems it brought.

He pushed his hands deep into his pockets, smiled to himself and strode off up the corridor, ready to face whatever was coming.


End file.
